You never realize how good it is until you try it.
(TW: SH AND ALCOHOL ABUSE)
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I stared at the ceiling, trying to feel something for once. Anger, sadness, happiness, fear. . . anything. I felt numb.
Like when you hit your elbow and you don't feel anything.
I blinked slowly and sighed. God, I need to take a shower. I stood up slowly, my body begging for me to go back. My weight was being dragged across the room. I swallowed the painful lump in my throat and grabbed a sweater from Ponyboy's wardrobe, along with some jeans, boxers and socks. I walked out of the room, knowing that the eyes would judge me because of how I am. I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing how messed up I sound. Ponyboy should be the one to worry about. Soon enough, all of my thoughts came crashing down like lightning on a stormy night. I looked around, cautiously, and walked into the bathroom.
What was the tool Pony had used?
Why did I want to try it out? I was a mess, surely, but did it make him feel good?
Did it make him feel 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?
I looked in one of the cabinets and pulled out a shaving razor, carefully separating the pieces. I finally got to the razor and stared at it. The sharp ends, the smooth and cold touch teasing at my wrists. I wanted to feel something for once.
I dragged it across my wrist and almost yelped - it's working.
I can feel.
I dragged it across both my wrists and groaned. It felt good. It made me realize that my problems can be solved with such simple movements. I finally decided that it was enough when I saw the blood creating a puddle. I wiped it off with a towel and thought I should use the same towel for the shower I'm going to have.
I turned the hot water on and stepped in, biting my lip to prevent the screams coming from my throat. Golly, it hurts so bad. I grabbed the shampoo and poured some of it into my hands. I shifted it around my hair for a while and gasped when I felt the pain from my wrists. It felt like alcohol pouring onto a fresh cut.
𝘈𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭.
Maybe I could get away from my thoughts for a while. Like, for example, a little trip. Like the bahamas. I giggled and rubbed body wash around my figure, feeling how dirty and disgusting my skin is. I gulped and stared at the running water for a while. I scratched my neck and yawned, turning the water off. I stepped out and through the towel into my face, drying it off. I pulled on the clothes and finally realized something:
Where is everyone?
Not this again. I can't be alone with my thoughts. I never realized how dangerous I could be. I hated myself. I ran a hand through my hair and let a tear slip from my eyes.
If anyone isn't here, I'm drinking.
If someone is here, I'll just cut some more. I'll find a way to cover it up, right?
I stepped out of the bathroom and walked around the house, notifying that I was alone. Ponyboy must have gone with Darry or Sodapop.
Sodapop. . .
How come I keep forgetting?
That's when I opened the fridge and took a bottle of vodka out of it. I tugged the cap off and downed it.
It hurt my throat, but I was trying to trust the process.
Was this really happening?
I stared at the bottle and set it down on the table.
I started sobbing, thinking about what I'm becoming. The thing I've feared most.
My dad.
My head hurt at the thought of it, but it was true. I shrugged my thoughts away and took another big sip, swaying around the place. I ended up on the couch, drinking my feelings away. I ended up falling asleep, but I woke up thirty minutes later. I don't even know what I was thinking when I drank. What happened? I started sobbing again and grabbed the bottle, drinking the last sips.
What was I feeling?
"Johnny?!"
I haven't realized that Two-bit was staring at me. I dropped the bottle on the ground, and it broke. Good thing there was barely any drink left inside.
"Hey, Two . . . where was everyone?" I slurred, slowly, sitting up. ". . . what's going on with you?" He said, walking closer to me. I shook my head. "No, no. Don't. . . don't touch me. I'm good." I said, my vision blurring and starting to feel dizzy. He sat next to me and sighed.
"Ponyboy is. . . with Sodapop."
I chuckled at that. "Sodapop's dead, silly." I said, waving my arms around. He stayed silent.
"Sodapop's. . . dead." I said, feeling the realization come down on me. If Ponyboy was with Sodapop. . .
"No." I said, attempting to stand up. "No! He's somewhere with Darry!" I said, huffing and walking around the place, with Two-bit following me. He tried grabbing my arm to make sure I didn't fall, but I was better on my own. "Leave me alone!" I screamed at him, feeling the tears slip from my eyes once again. "Johnny. . ." He sounded distant, but he was close. Why?
Why did everything suddenly feel unreal?
I grabbed a cup from the sink and threw it at him. The cup hit him, but he didn't get hurt.
What was going on? I started screaming at him, telling him that he isn't real and that everything is made up. What was going on with me? Why am I acting this way?
Suddenly. . .
--
"Johnny!"
YOU ARE READING
Drunk love, a sequel - Johnnyboy
Teen FictionAlthough Ponyboy and Johnny had their fair share of a "happy ending," it's never too late to ruin something. (AGES - Ponyboy: 17. Johnny: 18. Sodapop: 20. Steve: 21. Darry: 24. Two-bit: 22. Dally: 18.) WARNINGS: character death, abuse, mentions of s...